Waiting on the World to Change
by Sanning
Summary: Eric self-combusted on a Swedish mountain top while sunbathing in his birthday suit. Pam went to go find him. Does she find him? What will happen to our favourite vamp duo?
1. Light Em Up (I'm on Fire!)

First fanfiction since the finale, and the first one that is not complete and utter fluff! Decided to see what happened next to my two all time favorites on the show (who, imo, cannot survive without the other) for their six month absence. Love feedback and reviews!

I, sadly, do not own True Blood or any of it's characters. Rights go to the respective owners.

Waiting on the World to Change

Pamela Swynford de Beaufort was flying somewhere over northern Sweden when she felt it first. She faltered and slowed her speed as she felt an invisible fist land in her stomach, and she sucked in a shaky breath she no longer needed. Steam rose from around her, and she watched in horror as her skin sizzled and began to bubble.

"What the f…"

An earpiercing scream echoed throughout the barren mountain range, and Pamela was able to pinpoint a small fire almost directly below her. _Eric. _Cold terror gripped her heart.

Pain erupted in her body and she cried out. Black cobwebs broke out in front of her eyes, and she struggled to stay conscious, trying to focus on her maker, a task she new she could not do.

She let out a sigh, and then made her decision. She closed her eyes, and let herself fall out of sky while the darkness claimed her once more.

Eric roared in pain and collapsed to his knees. His mind raced and looked towards the sky, to the sun that had been forbidden to him for so long and now killed him once more. He felt his body give way, and he was pierced with so many confusing emotions- pain, regret, anger. He wasn't ready to give up just yet. He rolled in the snow, extinguishing himself for the most part, but he could still feel himself slipping away.

He thought about a conversation he and Pamela had had only a few short years ago.

"_It can't end this quickly."_

"_Everything ends. Even the immortal."_

His heart ached. She was all he had left on this Earth, and he would miss her. He thought of all the things he had never told her but should have. And in that instant, even though it was completely and utterly irrational, he would have given anything in the world for her to be there, to be held in her arms as he died.

He fell back into the snow and looked up the sky, which he decided would be a beautiful last sight. He saw a bright flash streak across the sky. The flash suddenly grew larger, and larger, and larger. _It looked human. _A human falling from the sky. Eric's eyes grew impossibly large as he watched his progeny fall through the sky at an impossible speed towards earth.

_PAMELA! _He screamed in agony, and then the whole world went black.


	2. Smoldering

Eric came to with his body feeling like it had been slow roasted on a rotisserie. He became vaguely aware of a limp weight flung across his body, and his eyes snapped open.

Pamela was sprawled out on top of him, her back to his front. Though it was well past nightfall, her eyes were shut and there no indication that she was alive other than the feeling Eric had in the pit of his stomach. He felt, rather than knew, that somewhere in there his Pam remained, even though she was slipping fast.

He carefully sat up, groaning as his charcoaled muscles resisted the movement. Eric stared in horror at his progeny cradled in his arms. Luckily for her (and for him; he couldn't imagine life without his insubordinate other half), the impact had propelled them into the snow bank and in essence saved their undead hides. That being said, while she hadn't been in the direct sun when she landed on him, she'd been exposed to partial sunlight through the thin sheen of snow and it showed.

She looked worse than Russell Edgington after Eric silvered them together outside of Fangtasia in broad daylight. Her hair was matted to her skull, and her normally alabaster skin was black and thick, flaking and peeling like a grotesque sunburn. Her clothes were all but tattered rags clinging to a gaunt frame. She was shriveled into a semi-fetal position, and looked so positively weak and vulnerable that Eric felt crimson tears well behind his eyes.

He gingerly rose to his feet, the pain not as bad as before and limped his way to the Swedish cabin he'd been staying at with Pam tucked safely in his arms.

Eric gently laid her out on the king-sized bed in the master bedroom, then grabbed one of the many bottles of True Blood he'd filched for his trip. He eased her mouth open and poured the thick, red liquid down her throat. _She saved my life…again. Now, it's my turn, _he thought as he tossed aside the empty bottle and grabbed another.


	3. Dawning

Eric swung the door to the cabin open, a cooler of blood bags held tightly in his fist. He supposed everyone would wonder what happened to the blood donor bus and the glamoured driver, the third in three months. Not like he actually cared per se.

He walked into the master bedroom and carefully set the cooler down next to the bed. Pamela still lied there, like a comatose porcelain doll. Eric squelched the all too familiar flicker of worry and fear he got every time he looked at her, so still and hurt.

Three months.

It had been three months since he woke up in the snow bank. Three months since he started nursing his child back to health. Her skin had lost that charcoaled look about a month prior; now her complexion was almost rosy, like a child who had spent too much time outdoors. She was still far too gaunt for his liking and weak, but last week she had stirred in her sleep and mumbled something incoherent, which had given Eric hope.

Three months.

He grabbed a bag of O-negative blood, sauntering into the kitchen and plopping it into the microwave for a few seconds. He tentatively reached through his only open bond, and was immediately rebuffed. He couldn't say he blamed her, and she was definitely like her sister.

He headed back towards the room, head lost in thought, and sat on the edge of the bed. He turned towards Pamela, and froze.

Her deep blue eyes stared into his, slightly dazed and confused. Her brow was wrinkled, and she stretched under the sheets then winced as her not-quite-healed muscles protested the movement.

Eric cupped her cheek, thumb gently stroking her face, and sighed. "I've missed you. Welcome back, my Pamela."

Her hand slowly made its way up to his, her fingers weaving themselves with his and grasping tightly. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then propped her up in a sitting position, her head cradled against his shoulder and her body pressed flush against his. He then handed her the blood bag, and rested his cheek against her hair as she ate.

Eric felt relief hit him like a tidal wave. Three months of not knowing whether or not she'd make it; Seventy-one days of watching her lie there, weak and comatose, and praying that he was doing everything he could right.

It had been a slap in the face to realize how truly and honestly close they were. Not to say he hadn't loved her- he loved her from the moment he made her and had never stopped- but the actual reality that he might never have this infuriating, insubordinate, amazing woman by his side was like a stake to the heart.

She was not only all he had left- she was all he needed.

Pam craned her head to look at him.

"Take a picture, Northman," she rasped. "It'll last longer. Where the hell am I? And _please _tell me this Authority/Billith/Government-gone-wacko bullshit was just a nightmare!"

Eric chuckled. Oh yes, his Pam was back.


End file.
